


why can't i say that i'm in love (i wanna shout it from the rooftops)

by pinwheeled



Series: cause i'm yours [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: (i would if i had to), Don't kill me please, Fluff, Jihoon centric, M/M, and like a little sprinkle of angst, happy birthday smol boy, i love junhoon do i have to sell a kidney just to see more of their moments, that just comes from lee jihoon being self-deprecating i'm sorry i didn't mean to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 01:44:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12784263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinwheeled/pseuds/pinwheeled
Summary: Between summer and winter, Jihoon falls in love (again).





	why can't i say that i'm in love (i wanna shout it from the rooftops)

**Author's Note:**

> happy! birthday! lee! jihoon!
> 
> (thank you to ms jeon for helping me proofread and crying and demanding that i post this and still getting angry at me for making her cry! most of all thank you for all the junhoon content the past two weeks u da mvp)
> 
> (title is from secret love song - little mix ♡)

Of all the electives Jihoon can choose from, he supposes the most relevant would be psychology. He tells himself it’s so he can understand how to appeal to other's emotions when making music, but Seungcheol insists it’s so he can learn to stop being so emotionally constipated.

 

“It’ll be good to learn, Jihoon,” he had said, when the music major was scrolling through the list of modules available for registration in the new semester. Jihoon clicks on said class, and groans. He knows his best friend means well, and he would never admit it, but he’s also right.

 

“Well, it’s a three-hour lecture every Friday evening. It better be worth it.”

 

When Jihoon walks into the lecture, after having just woke up from his power nap, he barely manages to fall into a seat without tripping, and when he sobers up, he realises that the lecture hall is almost filled. _Hmm_ , he thinks, _must be a popular course_.

 

“Hey, uh, do you have this week’s lesson notes?”

 

Jihoon, still half-buried in his pile of jacket, bag and files, turns to his left to face the voice. “Oh? Jihoon?” The male’s eyes widen, and so does Jihoon, who struggles to sit up properly. “Junhui,” he greets, clearing his throat when his voice comes out cracky after sleeping. 

 

Enter Wen Junhui, Jihoon’s high-school seatmate. A transfer student from China, and someone who was almost the exact opposite of Jihoon. And yet, they managed to get along, albeit awkwardly. 

 

Jihoon finds himself staring a little, and in his defense, he has good reason to. Junhui looks different, and while he can’t exactly pinpoint how and where, it’s a _good_ different. He doesn’t have the chance to think further than that, because he realises that he’s been staring, and snaps out of it. “Yeah, I have them. Here,” he says while slapping the papers onto the table beside him. Junhui smiles and thanks him gently. His voice has always been gentle, Jihoon thinks. That’s not what’s different.

 

“You changed your hair,” Junhui suddenly says, his eyes flickering over to Jihoon before going back to scanning through the notes. Jihoon subconsciously touches the back of his head, fingers brushing against the short hairs. He used to have mushroom bob in high school, the typical no-effort, trouble-free hairstyle for any lazy high school boy. Now that he’s in college and an _independent adult_ , he had his hair dyed blonde and styled neatly, a parting on the side of his forehead just like Seungcheol said would look good. 

 

Junhui hands him his notes with a grin and another _thank you_ , and that’s when Jihoon notices. _His teeth are so nice now_. Junhui used to have uneven, messy teeth, but in the last year of high school, Junhui started using braces, and it’s been two years since. Jihoon supposes that this is the end product. He tries to be objective and keeps his thoughts at how straight his teeth are, instead of how much _prettier_ his smile looks now.

 

Also tries to push down the feeling bubbling up in his chest, and he succeeds narrowly. 

 

Junhui keeps up an easy, casual conversation whenever the professor isn’t talking, or when Jihoon looks like he’s going to fall asleep. After second year of high school, they haven’t talked much, being in different classes and all, and Jihoon honestly didn’t know Junhui was even in the same college. Many of their peers had gone to a university closer to the city, while Jihoon had given up convenience for a spot in a college that was more renowned in the fine arts.

 

He feels like it’s a little bit of fate that Junhui ended up here as well. 

 

“What are you studying?” “Me? I’m studying Medicine. Bet you didn’t expect that.”

 

Jihoon didn’t. Junhui never seemed to have a strong passion for science or anything related to medicine, because all Jihoon remembers is Junhui spending long hours in the dance studio with fellow classmate Soonyoung. Jihoon also remembers peeking in occasionally, while on the way to the music room with Wonwoo, to catch a glimpse of Junhui absolutely _killing_ those dance moves.

 

They catch up a little, and while Jihoon has always been a little awkward with Junhui, the relief of having someone familiar in this huge lecture hall is overpowering that feeling. 

 

While they converse, Jihoon starts to notice small things that make up the big difference between high school Junhui and college _Medicine_ student Junhui. He is a lot more confident in his Korean, not stumbling over his words anymore, and he leans a lot closer when he has to lower his voice, which makes Jihoon instinctively flinch away the first time, but he eventually gives up, because Junhui doesn’t stop doing it.

 

On top of that, Junhui has gotten a hell lot more attractive, something Jihoon’s been trying to ignore, but he gives up denying it because it’s a fact anyway. He even _smells_ nice. Jesus.

 

When the lecture ends, Jihoon’s stomach growls unceremoniously, and Junhui laughs, tipping his head back and stretching in the process. “Bet you haven't had lunch,” Junhui chuckles, “c’mon, let’s grab dinner together.” Jihoon wants to decline, because he always just has leftovers in the apartment, or there’s takeaway he can easily order, but Junhui has a firm and impatient grip on his arm that renders him speechless.

 

Junhui has definitely gotten more built and stronger, Jihoon thinks, as he is dragged down to the cafeteria at alarming speed. 

 

When he thinks they’re out of things to talk about, Junhui changes the topic. When he thinks it’s going to get awkward, Junhui tells a joke that is surprisingly funny.

 

(Well, Junhui seems to have gotten a better sense of humour now, too.)

 

_Oh no_ , Jihoon sighs, _if he goes on like this I’m going to be screwed_.

 

It’s too easy - laughing with Junhui, laughing _at_ Junhui, talking like they didn’t have a two-year gap since they’ve last seen each other, conversing about daily life like they’re close friends. Everything is always easy with Junhui. He breaks Jihoon out of his shell so fast that Jihoon can’t even realise it.

 

“Seungcheol,” he grumbles, later that night when he’s back in his apartment, “I met Junhui in school today.” “Oh shit,” his best friend half yells into the phone, “Wen Junhui? Shit, life hates you.” “Yeah,” Jihoon groans, “life definitely hates me. I thought I could live my college life quietly. Guess what, Cheol, he’s a med student. _Medicine_! He’s so, he’s _so_ \- ugh.”

 

“Hey hey, buddy, chill out. He’s not unreachable. You know that,” Seungcheol’s voice becomes a lot softer, and Jihoon sighs defeatedly. “It’s not about that. He’s just so, up there, you know? He used to be all awkwardly and gangly. It’s so weird seeing him so put together now.” 

 

Seungcheol hums from the other end of the line. They’ve both seen Junhui in his high school years, often treated as _that weird boy_ or the _odd one out_ , and now he’s someone any normal person would look up to. Good looks, good grades, and in Jihoon’s case, a literal case of looking up because Junhui also has model proportions. He groans again, “Why does he get to be _perfect_?”

 

“A model!” Junhui laughs the next day, and Jihoon almost glares at how _nice_ his laugh is. “I got scouted on the streets in between college and high school, and I’m working as that now, so it takes all my free time. What about you, Jihoon, what do you do in your free time?”

 

Jihoon doesn’t answer. He thought Junhui would say something like _dancing_ or _practicing martial arts_ like he used to in his free time, but apparently he’s got to do something even better than what he’s already been doing.

 

“You don’t dance anymore?” He asks instead, because he doesn’t want to embarrass himself by admitting that he just sleeps his free time away, considering that he doesn't have much leisure time to start with.

 

“Oh, I do, just that Soonyoung’s busy with his classes and I’m busy with my job, so we only dance when we both have time to meet! Don’t tell me, you just slave your life away in class and you sleep in all that other time you have?”

 

Fuck, how did he know?

 

Jihoon frowns, and nods, earning himself another laugh from Junhui, “You’re still the same, Woozi.”

 

Jihoon all but freezes at the nickname. _Woozi_. How long has it been since he’s heard it? He doesn’t remember if it was Junhui or Soonyoung who came up with it, but it stuck somehow, and Junhui was always the one actively cooing the name at him at every opportunity. 

 

He flushes red, because he knows that Junhui laces a lot of affection into the nickname.

 

“I guess this is our cue to go, then. Since you’re a busy man!” Junhui huffs mock-angrily, and drags Jihoon up from the seat. The shorter complies, still flustered, and allows Junhui to walk him out of the school building. 

 

“I’ll see you again next week, yeah?” Junhui calls out, flashing a smile at Jihoon, who nods quickly before turning around.

 

Oh god, save his heart. It’s beating too fast.

 

Jihoon thinks that he has at least six days to steel himself for his next encounter with the Chinese male when he gets a rude shock in his inbox two days later.

 

_Dear Woozi,_

 

_I hope you’re still using this email! If you aren’t Mr. Lee Jihoon, please ignore this, sorry!_

 

_I hope you’re sleeping enough! ( ´_ ∀ ｀ _) Now that I know you’re in the same campus I feel a little bit more responsible for your well-being (_ ￣ _^_ ￣ _) If you’re free tomorrow afternoon, would you perhaps like to grab lunch with me? I’ve been wanting to try this barbecue place down the street_ （＾ _ω_ ＾）

 

_Also, give me your number! So I can text you hehe_

 

_Regards,_

_Jun_

 

Jihoon reads the email thrice before leaning back in his chair. An email, really? In this day and age? Junhui probably had to search up all their old project discussions to find his email address. What dedication.

 

_No, don’t assume things_. It’s dangerous to think that Junhui would go through that effort for him. And to say he _feels responsible for Jihoon’s well-being_? What a way to lead someone on. Jihoon wills his feelings to sit back down. _Just because he’s hot now doesn’t give you reason to fall for him again._

 

_Dear Jun,_

 

_I’m amazed you found my email._

 

_I’ve been doing well, as per normal. You don’t have to worry._

_My number is 010-xxx-xxxx. Lunch sounds good. See you tomorrow :)_

 

_Regards,_

_Jihoon_

 

He decided on the smiley face on impulse. The email sounded too formal, too cold in his mind, but he’s always typed like this, so Junhui would understand, right? But wait, why does he even care. _Oh right, Jihoon_ , the ugly part of his dark past reminds him, _it’s because you had a helpless high-school crush on him_.

 

Jihoon definitely does _not_ want to be reminded of that.

 

The next day at noon, Junhui is outside his music studio, leaning against the wall like the attractive model he is. The students walking past turn their heads to look at him, some murmuring to their friends about his good looks, or that they’ve spotted him in some magazine. Jihoon wants to run away, but life has other plans.

 

“Woozi!” Junhui calls, voice high and happy (everything Jihoon isn’t). He falls into step beside Jihoon as they make their way towards the restaurant Junhui mentioned. “Hey, walk slower! You walk really fast for someone who’s… a little bit shorter than me,” Junhui laughs, with a _look_ on his face.

 

Junhui knows (remembers, even) that Jihoon doesn’t like people talking about his height, and he always has the same apologetic, sheepish look when he accidentally mentions it. Jihoon inwardly sighs. This boy is too good-natured, too kind for this world. Even Seungcheol, his best friend, sworn to be on his side in every argument, takes every opportunity to make fun of the fact that he’s vertically challenged. 

 

“I- there were people staring. I didn’t want them to see us together, I guess.” 

 

Junhui’s face falls, and Jihoon immediately regrets what he says. _It’s not what I meant, I just didn’t want them to misunderstand, I’m not worthy of being associated with you_ , a milliard of explanations run through his head, but Junhui _pouts_ (oh god, the audacity, how _dare_ he look cute) and tugs on Jihoon’s sleeve, “You don’t like being friends with me?”

 

“It’s not that,” Jihoon rushes out, “I meant, the two of us. I- I didn’t want people to misunderstand.”

 

“Ohhhhh,” Junhui drawls, smile returning to his face, “you didn’t want them to think we’re dating.” Jihoon nods, turning away to hide the heat he feels rushing up his cheeks. 

 

“It’s not a date if you don’t want it to be,” Junhui continues, and Jihoon can almost hear the smirk ins voice, “but I’d like to think it is. A date with genius composer Woozi, it’s my honour.”

 

Jihoon whips his head around at that, giving up on the fact he’s flushed red, since Junhui can probably see the damned blush on the tips of his ears from behind anyway. “ _Your_ honour? I’m eating with the ever-so-popular model Wen Junhui, shouldn’t people be envious of _me_?”

 

Junhui’s smile widens impossibly, and his cheeks tint pink, “Not at all, Jihoon, but I’m happy you think so highly of me.”

 

Jihoon simultaneously wants to forget this ever happened and keep this memory forever. 

 

“He’s interested,” Seungcheol laughs into the phone, “he was _so_ flirting.”

 

It’s two days later when Jihoon can’t live with the fact that the incident happened and consults Seungcheol on how to deal with an abnormally fast-beating heart. It isn’t much help, but Jihoon’s thankful he has someone to vent to.

 

“He remembers I eat a lot of rice? How does he remember me so well. He even tried to feed me pork. I’m angry.” Jihoon huffs into the receiver, and Seungcheol guffaws in laughter. Jihoon can hear Seungcheol’s boyfriend shush him on the other end, and he promptly shuts up, leading Jihoon to laugh instead. 

 

“You’re cute when you’re angry and confused. Can you just accept that he might be into you and stop thinking you’re not good enough for him for two seconds?” 

 

“But I’m not.”

 

“That wasn’t even two seconds!”

 

Jihoon tries to hammer into his head that yes, he’s a mess of a college student with no bright future prospects, and he’s definitely not good enough for Junhui. But he allows himself to be dragged on lunch “dates” and study “dates”, and after some time he can’t find it in himself to keep putting himself down, especially when Junhui is always praising him. Be it lyrics, or a new arrangement, the Chinese male is always surprised when he listens to it, saying it’s amazing, better than the one before, it’s special, it’s _amazing_.

 

Jihoon doesn’t tell him that he’s the muse behind it all.

 

It isn’t till mid-term season when Jihoon finally catches an idea of Junhui showing faint signs of being a mess.

 

“Jihoon?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“When you breathe in, your lungs expand, right?”

 

Jihoon looks up from his screen. Junhui is hidden behind his own laptop, reading his notes, in the studio Jihoon booked for the afternoon.

 

“Uh… yeah? I don’t know, you’re the med student here, not me.”

 

“Okay yeah thanks. I think so, hmm.”

 

Jihoon stares at the top of Junhui’s head. He’s still hunched over his notes, scribbling furiously, trying to cram for his upcoming test. This, Jihoon can relate.

 

“Junhui?”

 

Said male finally looks up at him, peering over his screen.

 

“I think you should take a break. Wanna get ice cream?”

 

Junhui straightens up, and sifts through his notes. “I don’t know… I still have so much to revise…” Jihoon sighs and stands up, crossing the room in a few strides and tugging his sleeve until he’s standing, “You’ve been at this since morning. Come on, you deserve a break.”

 

It’s terribly uncharacteristic of him to do this. Seungcheol would probably complain about how he doesn’t even show this level of care and concern over his best friend. But exceptions have to be made.

 

On the way back to the studio, Jihoon feels a finger brush against his palm and wrap around his pinky. He looks down to see Junhui’s little finger interlocked with his own.

 

“Thank you, Woozi,” he murmurs into Jihoon’s ear, and the shorter male grunts in response, ducking his head down to hide the ferocious blush across his cheekbones.

 

“You held _pinkies_!” Seungcheol squeals loudly (Jihoon can once again hear a muffled “Cheol! You scared me!” in the background), “You’re going to get married. I swear."

 

Jihoon rolls his eyes, “You’re an idiot. But yeah he’s been a lot more touchy these days.”

 

“I wonder why,” Seungcheol sing-songs, and Jihoon scoffs. “Must be menopause. I can’t be too sure.”

 

“Very funny, Jihoon. You’ll see, I’m always right, _especially_ when everyone thinks I’m wrong. See, I said Jisoo would be gay, didn’t I? Even when you guys said he’s a good church boy.” Jihoon laughs, remembering the times Seungcheol desperately tried to convince everyone Jisoo had the hots for him so they would stop accusing him of sinning.

 

“Hey,” Seungcheol’s boyfriend whines, “don’t drag me into this.”

 

It’s a few weeks to finals, and after their first round of war, Jihoon is all geared up for the second leg of submissions. Junhui’s been coming over pretty often, to the studio and now his apartment too, complaining there’s nowhere near the medical school that doesn’t have peaking stress levels.

 

“It’s more relaxing when I’m studying with you. And plus I get to hear you make your music. I like it better.”

 

Jihoon tries not to let it affect him.

 

He tries to deny that they’ve gotten closer, closer than they’ve ever been since sitting beside each other for a year in high school, but he can’t. He feels so comfortable around Junhui - at ease, and happy. When he’s bored, Junhui is like a happy pill, and when he’s angry and frustrated, Junhui knows how to calm him down. He even can’t help but smile when Seungcheol gushes about their “progress” over the phone. It’s like good character development in a book, he thinks.

 

He also tries to ignore the fact that he can’t be that person for Junhui. He was born emotionally constipated. But Junhui chooses to stick with him, so that’s his issue.

 

It’s a good thing, actually, that Junhui hovers around him so much, because then Jihoon wouldn’t have to come up with a bad excuse to ask him for a favour.

 

“Me? But, why?” Junhui tilts his head to the side, quizzical gaze boring into Jihoon’s eyes. “Y-you have a nice voice? I think you would suit this song. I mean, if you’re too busy, I understa-” “I’ll do it,” Junhui quickly says, reaching over to place his hand over Jihoon’s on the table.

 

Jihoon disguises his staring as focused monitoring when Junhui diligently records the song. His voice is smooth and easy to listen to, and if Jihoon were proud of one thing in his life, it would be him asking Junhui to sing this song.

 

(Meanwhile in another part of the city Seungcheol can’t believe he lost a bet to Jisoo that Jihoon would manage to make Junhui sing a love song of which the lyrics were inspired by the boy himself.)

 

“It’s a nice song,” Junhui smiles after finishing the last note, “I hope I did justice to it.”

 

“You did,” Jihoon smiles back, something that he’s been finding increasingly easy to do in the presence of the Chinese boy, “I don’t think anyone would be better suited for this song than you.”

 

It’s a song that Jihoon poured all his feelings and whatever emotion he could put into words into, but that also means he’s milked dry of inspiration for his other submissions. 

 

It’s only a week till the deadline, and Jihoon is a disappointing two verses short. He’s ready to tear his hair out and quit school, but Junhui picks up on his unhealthy stress level and pads across the living room in his cat socks, sitting down beside Jihoon with a loud _thump_.

 

“Ow,” Jihoon offers, not looking up from his notebook, “you okay?”

 

“Are _you_ okay?”

 

Junhui drops his chin against the table, doe eyes scanning across Jihoon’s face. Unfamiliar with the intense gaze he’s receiving, Jihoon plants his face into his notebook and groans, “I don’t know what to write. Life sucks.”

 

Junhui’s hand comes up to rub circles on his back, “Hey, don’t freak out. You can do it, just open up your mind and try to get inspiration from small everyday things.”

 

It’s what he’s been trying to do. Just that he either 1. runs into a dead end after an hour or 2. starts thinking about Junhui and goes off tangent again. Jihoon shakes his head, nose flattening across the few lines of blue ink on the otherwise empty page.

 

“Should we take a walk? Maybe you’ll get some ideas.”

 

Jihoon shakes his head again, “I’m tired. I just wanna curl up in a ball and die.”

 

Junhui’s hand is swiftly detached from his back, and it reconnects with a resounding clap on his thigh instead. “Don’t say that! You’re not going to die on me. Come on.”

 

Jihoon feels Junhui grab his bicep, tugging him up until he’s standing. He doesn’t register anything until he finds himself falling onto soft cushion. Junhui is tucking him into his blanket when he blinks awake from his trance. 

 

“You should sleep and wake up refreshed then continue writing. I’ll be outside, okay?” Junhui pats his head fondly and Jihoon scrunches up his nose in distaste.

 

Junhui reaches for the doorknob and is about to flick the lights off when Jihoon stirs. “S-stay. If you leave now I’ll end up w-writing an angsty song. I have so many angsty thoughts.”

 

Junhui turns around with an unreadable expression, and Jihoon can see the gears moving in his head. He wants to say _never mind, forget it_ but Junhui across the room in one, two big strides and sliding under the covers beside Jihoon.

 

“I’m thankful for the invitation. Your bed has got to be comfier than the couch.”

 

Jihoon snickers, and Junhui smiles in relief when he sees Jihoon’s lips quirk up.

 

“You’re too hard on yourself,” he mumbles, shifting closer to Jihoon. It’s too hot, and Junhui’s body heat makes him flush more.

 

“You’re amazing, Woozi. I hope you know that you’re amazing and special. Especially to me.”

 

_What a nice dream this is_ , Jihoon laughs internally, _it’s been a long time since I’ve had a nice dream. Almost feels real._

 

Junhui inches closer and accidentally kicks Jihoon’s shin, making him yelp out in pain. “Oops,” Junhui giggles breathlessly, hand flying out to pat Jihoon’s cheek in apology.

 

_It’s not a dream?_ Jihoon feels his heart exploding in ripples of fireworks in his chest. Junhui really said that.

 

He drifts off to sleep with the comforting warmth of Junhui’s arms draped carelessly over his body, and the steady sound of him breathing.

 

The following morning, Jihoon wakes up to soft snoring, and he steels his heart and braces himself for the sight when he opens his eyes.

 

When he does, his breath still catches in his throat, and his heart still jumps erratically. Junhui’s lips are parted, his hair mussed up from the pillow, and he looks absolutely _beautiful_. There’s no sunlight to cast that ethereal glow on him, and he doesn’t have the vulnerable, peaceful look in his sleep like they describe in dramas, but with that subtle little frown between his eyebrows and dribble of drool threatening to roll out of his mouth, Junhui looks imperfectly _perfect_.

 

Jihoon wishes he doesn’t have to be _that_ guy in the dramas, reaching out to brush aside their bangs, or to run his finger down their nose bridge. But he _wants_ to, and it scares him indefinitely. He can almost hear Seungcheol, “Catching feelings, Jihoon?” with that annoying smirk on his face, knowing that he’s cornered Jihoon on this one.

 

“Mhhmm, mornin’,” Junhui groans, flipping onto his back and bringing an arm up to cover his face. Jihoon guesses that he’s currently trying to wipe away the drool or attempt to pat his unruly hair down. _Hmm, cute_.

 

(He seriously thinks the word _cute_ too many times around Junhui.)

 

“What day is it?” Junhui’s muffled voice asks, and Jihoon snorts, “It’s Tuesday.” “Do you have lessons?” Jihoon ponders over it. He has a lecture at ten, but he can feel Junhui’s body heat warming up the blanket and it’s so cosy here-

 

“Nah.”

 

“Jihoon. You shouldn’t skip classes.”

 

“I’d rather be here, and that lecture is useless, anyway.”

 

Junhui doesn’t reply to that, but he hasn’t removed his arm from covering his face, so Jihoon can’t see his reaction. _Did he fall back asleep?_

 

“Hmm. Let’s stay here then, I’m lazy to move as well,” Junhui says while removing his arm and turning to face Jihoon at the same time. He grins and Jihoon’s heart clenches at the sight. Junhui inches a little closer, slinging an arm around Jihoon’s waist, making him flinch a little, but he relaxes into the touch too fast, too willingly, and he is ashamed of it. Seungcheol would never let him live this down.

 

Jihoon decides there are some things better left unsaid. Like him sharing a bed with Junhui, and wanting to hold his hand and cuddle into his side and press kisses against his neck. 

 

With this amount of stress and _emotions_  bottled up, it was bound to happen someday.

 

Junhui’s eyes roam through the crowd, trying (very hard) to spot Jihoon, but even as the majority of people leave the lecture theatre, he’s still nowhere to be found. He knows he’s got the right theatre and time slot, so where-

 

Jihoon stumbles out of his class, cold sweat beading against his forehead. He tries to look as normal as possible, as though he’s not currently shivering like it’s in January and sporting the World’s Biggest Headache. “Woozi?” He looks up when he hears Junhui’s voice, and _shit, he can’t find out._

 

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Junhui beams, unaware of Jihoon’s current condition, “I was wondering if you want to have some lunch!” Jihoon sighs, and steadies himself on his two wobbly feet. “Junhui, I’m not really feeling well…” “Hmm? Okay then, let’s go.” Jihoon huffs impatiently, “I’m really not-"

Junhui grabs him arm lightly, “I’m walking you home. Or do you want me to flag down a cab?”

 

Jihoon stares up at him incredulously. 

 

“Come on, you look like you’re going to fall over any moment,” Junhui tugs on his arm gently, making him walk towards the elevator. “You don’t have to, Junhui.” “I want to. Now stop complaining before I carry you home.” Jihoon stays quiet for the rest of the walk.

 

When he reaches the junction, a cold gust of wind blows, and Jihoon frankly just wants to die. He already knows it’s a fever, and the chilly weather is definitely unhelpful. Junhui glances at him and makes a move to take off his coat, but Jihoon stops him, “I don’t want you to fall sick.” Junhui hesitates, arm still halfway through a sleeve, but he complies, and instead wraps a protective arm around the shorter male’s shoulders. Jihoon is still cold, but somehow his body manages to produce heat just so it could make his face burn an embarrassing red.

 

When they reach his room, Jihoon promptly falls onto the sheets, worn out and uncomfortable. “Woozi,” Junhui calls from somewhere in his apartment, “come take a warm bath first.” He groans, partly at his extreme unwillingness to move and partly at how disgustingly domestic Junhui sounded in that moment. “Jihoon. If you don’t shower now you’re going to complain about being sticky and uncomfortable later.” Right. He’s forgotten that Junhui knows him like the back of his hand now. His voice is a lot nearer now, and with seconds Jihoon feels a strong arm grab onto his wrist and pull him into a sitting position. He lets himself get dragged into the bathroom, and he hears a concerned _don’t take too long, or you’ll get cold_  before the door shuts with a soft click.

 

He showers quickly, the drops of water feeling like hailstones on his back, and when he’s finally done, he rushes out and onto his bed, this time falling face first into the mattress. He hears Junhui’s amused huff of laughter from the side, but he has no energy to snap at him.

 

He almost drifts into a deep slumber when a loud whirring jolts him awake, making him groan in annoyance. “Don’t give me that noise, if you sleep like this you’ll end up getting a cold.” Jihoon sighs and wills himself to black out amidst the noise of the hairdryer, and it isn’t all that difficult because the feeling of Junhui’s fingers threading through his hair slowly is enough to lull him to sleep.

 

When he wakes up the next morning, he squints before opening his eyes just in case Junhui’s lying in his bed again (that honestly sounds really weird, because Jihoon isn’t used to have anyone in his apartment, let alone his bed, and more than once for that matter). But the covers haven’t even been pulled aside, meaning Junhui didn’t stay over. He tries to suppress the disappointment. Who was he to think Junhui even _wanted_  to stay over, anyway?

 

He almost falls back in shock when he sees Junhui making scrambled eggs in the kitchen.

 

“W-woah! What are you- why are you here?”

 

“Good morning to you too, Woozi, why are you always asking me that? Do you not want to see me?” Jihoon can already picture the massive pout on Junhui’s face. “It’s not- did you stay over?” Junhui nods, shaking the pan lightly (how did he even know where to find it?) and chuckling, “I was up revising, then I realised it was like, seven when I looked up from my book so I thought I’d make you breakfast.” Jihoon snorts, then frowns, “You didn’t sleep?” Junhui laughs again, “What is sleep, can it be eat-” He doesn’t even finish the sentence when he feels (and hears) a loud smack on the side of his head, and he lets out a loud squeak. “What was that for?!” Jihoon huffs, his ears tinging a light pink, “You have to take care of yourself too, idiot. I can’t cook breakfast for you when you’re sick.” 

 

Junhui hums, a smile playing on his lips, “Are you feeling better?” Jihoon nods as he pours a cup of milk for himself, then he mutters a soft _yeah_  when he realises Junhui can see him. “Thanks,” he adds softly, half hoping Junhui wouldn’t hear it.

 

But he does, as usual. The boy has insane hearing abilities, as proven from when he can hear Jihoon whisper curses at his computer from across the room, and when he can listen through the layers of Jihoon’s compositions. Jihoon can only hope he doesn’t hear the thundering in his chest when Junhui is beside him, or his noisy, overflowing thoughts about said male.

 

“No need to thank me,” Junhui says cheerfully, “I wanted to take care of you.”

 

And it sets Jihoon’s mind off again, wondering what Junhui actually _wants_. He’s been saying it a lot more now, especially when Jihoon says _you don’t have to_. It’s true, Junhui doesn’t have to do a lot of what he does for Jihoon, like buy him and Americano when he’s slumped over his keyboard in the studio, or walk him home, or make breakfast for him like the annoyingly ideal domestic guy he is.

 

Every time Junhui says he _wants_  to, Jihoon lets him do it, and Jihoon can’t tell if Junhui is just saying it to get his way around Jihoon rather than being serious.

 

“Earth to Jihoon?”

 

He startles awake, almost dropping his cup. Junhui laughs amusedly, “You’ve been drinking air from that empty cup for a while now, what’s on your mind?”

 

Jihoon takes the plate of eggs (Junhui drew a smiley face on it with ketchup) and walks to the table, shaking his head, “Nothing much.”

 

The cold weather gets even colder as it approaches Mid-November, winter formally making its entrance and bidding autumn a frosty goodbye. Jihoon doesn’t wrap himself in generous layers, just opting for a thick coat and boots when he trudges his way to class. It’s just started snowing, and he vaguely regrets not putting on a cap because his hair will definitely be damp and cold.

 

He bumps into Junhui (he only puts it this way to make it sound coincidental, and to convince himself that Junhui doesn’t actually make the effort to wait for him at the edge of the campus on mornings where they both have classes) and the taller male scrunches his nose at the sight of all the snow on Jihoon’s hair. “I know, I know, I should’ve worn a hat so I won’t fall sick,” Jihoon grumbles as he moves to brush the snow off, only to get his hand swatted away by Junhui’s. “Don’t,” he says, cheeks pink (from the cold, Jihoon insists), “the snowflakes make you look nice.” Jihoon gives him an incredulous look, only to be met with a shy smile from the other, and he has to look away before he starts blushing too.

 

Winter is definitely colder this year, but Jihoon doesn’t exactly hate it, after all, the cold always makes him feel fresher, and he’d prefer cold over the scorching summer heat any time. 

 

But seeing Junhui shiver every two seconds makes him despise the cold a little. He looks so uncomfortable, Jihoon wishes he could will the chilly winds away or be able to summon heat for his friend. Jihoon realises they are very much opposites, he’s like winter, cold and pale and unmerciful, while Junhui is summer, tan skin and golden hues, smile as bright as the sun and warmth as comforting as the morning light. _Summer could never exist at the same time as winter_ , he thinks bitterly.

 

Winter also means Jihoon’s birthday is coming up. It’s too apt, being born in the cold winter and growing up to become such a cold person in general, but his friends have always made him feel warm and loved and appreciated on this one day, even though he could never come to understand how is possible that he’s _that_ person in their lives. This year isn’t an exception.

 

Seungcheol’s call comes in at exactly 1:03am, jolting Jihoon awake, and he answers the phone angrily only to hear a shrieking _Happy Birthday Jihoonie!_  from both his best friend and his best friend’s boyfriend. He can’t bring himself to be angry after that, not when he knows they stayed up just for this call as well despite having work in a few hours, and he chats happily with them, albeit a little sleepily, and when he hangs up, a warmth spreads across his chest. If Jihoon could choose one day to let himself be loved, it would be on this day, his birthday.

 

Everything goes on as per normal, Jihoon goes for classes (It’s the last week of semester), and birthday wishes come in, from his high school friends, from a few of his course mates whom he’s known since the first day of school, and he takes it all in, smiling his entire year’s worth of happiness back at them. It’s a nice change, he feels, being able to laugh and love and be loved, but his personality would never allow him to enjoy more than one day of this, so he always makes the best out of these twenty-four hours.

 

Junhui is standing outside his studio when he walks out, as usual, and today Jihoon beams at him, making him flinch back a little. “You’re very happy today,” he observes, casting an unbelieving smile at Jihoon, “this smile looks good on you, you should wear it more.”

 

Jihoon wants to slap his arm, or frown, or huff incredulously at him, but today is not the day for that.

 

Instead, he looks up with bright eyes, and laughs, and he feels it again, the warmth flooding his chest, as he lets himself go, lets himself take in the fond look on Junhui’s face, lets the blood rush to his cheeks, lets himself believe that maybe one day, he’ll be able to love Junhui without feeling guilty about it.

 

On the walk home (again, with Junhui, as usual), Jihoon wonders if Junhui knows the context behind his change in character. If he does, he shows no sign of it, and Jihoon is thankful that at least that means Junhui can’t poke fun at him for it.

 

He’s already set his expectations so low, when he opens the door to his apartment, he almost gets a heart attack.

 

“ _Surprise_!”

 

He can’t even yell or jump in shock and he’s met with a shower of confetti, courtesy of Soonyoung, who was trying to figure out how to use the popper, and exuberant laughter from Wonwoo, who’s holding a cake with haphazard _Happy birthday Woozi!!_  written on it in pink (ew) icing. He looks around shell-shocked, and he almost jumps out of his skin when he spots Seungcheol lounging on his couch with Jisoo, who has helped himself to the cola they brought over.

 

“Junhui planned it,” Seungcheol offers, gesturing to the male, who is standing by the door. Jihoon turns around, and Junhui looks down at him amusedly, he’s too close, _way too close_ , and he murmurs, “Surprise?” 

 

Jihoon musters every ounce on self control not to pull him down and kiss him right there and then.

 

They share a good laugh over catching up, and Jihoon misses this, misses having his friends around. He hasn’t felt lonely in the past year in college, but now with his closest friends surrounding him, he does feel like he’s been missing out on a lot. Luckily, Junhui’s presence has made up for it most of the time.

 

Speaking of the boy, he’s been keeping his eyes on Jihoon the entire time, eyes filled with a soft fondness Jihoon desperately wants to ignore (as much as he wants to ignore Seungcheol’s knowing looks and glances between the both of them).

 

When they all leave in the evening, Junhui proposes going for supper. He’s starving because Soonyoung wanted the pizza, and being the saint he is, he gave it up for the hungry dancer. Junhui tugs on his arm with a growing pout on his face, and really, Jihoon doesn’t know why he tries when he’s never once said no to Junhui.

 

It’s dark out, the only light on the streets coming from the flickering street lamps, and although it’s colder than during the day, Jihoon feels warm and fuzzy inside. He bumps shoulders with Junhui as they walk back from the convenience store, hands shoved inside their pockets and faces half hidden by their scarves.

 

All of a sudden, Junhui stops.

 

Jihoon only notices a few steps ahead, and he turns around in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

 

“It’s… eleven fifty.”

 

Jihoon takes his hand out of his pocket to look at his watch. Yeah, maybe his watch is a little slow, but okay, what’s his point?

 

“Seungcheol told me today is the only day you let yourself be truly happy.”

 

Jihoon groans. Leave it to his best friend to be an absolute idiot, spilling his secrets wherever he goes.

 

“I just- I just wanted to tell you…” Junhui is uncharacteristically hesitant, looking at his feet and toeing at the snow, “You mean a lot to me, Jihoon, ever since high school, when we first met each other.”

 

Jihoon stares, and he gets the feeling Junhui doesn’t want to be interrupted, so he stays silent.

 

“You were the first person who didn’t look at me weird when I spoke Korean, and you helped me a lot in schoolwork, and I was always so thankful. When we split classes I felt so lonely, and when I didn’t even manage to find you during graduation, god, I thought I would never be able to see you again.”

 

(Jihoon had been slightly thankful he didn’t see Junhui that day, he didn’t need to be reminded of his one-sided crush on the last day of high school. Now he feels a little guilty.)

 

“And then when I saw you, that day in Psychology lecture, it was like fate was on my side, and I told myself I wouldn’t let you go a second time. I really like spending time with you, but it sometimes hurts, you know?”

 

Junhui looks up and meets his eyes, and Jihoon feels like his gaze could melt all the snow within a ten-metre radius.

 

“It hurts because you’re someone so special, and so deserving, but you don’t let yourself be loved.”

 

Jihoon feels his throat close up, the same way Junhui’s is, it’s obvious the taller male is controlling his emotions as he speaks.

 

“I like you so much, and it should hurt more because you push me away, but it hurts the most when I know you’re just closing yourself off because you feel like you’re not worth it.”

 

(When Jihoon said Junhui knows him like the back of his hand, he didn’t think it’d be to this extent.)

 

“You _are_ worth it, Jihoon. And I love you, a lot.”

 

Jihoon chokes back a sob as Junhui takes a step closer. One step, two steps, until he’s right in front of Jihoon.

 

“I-it’s not midnight y-yet, Jihoon. So w-will you l-let me love you?”

 

Jihoon suddenly has a flashback of Junhui in high school, the same stuttering mess, the same shy, hesitant look when he’s talking, all of which seems to have been washed away by the new wave of confidence that came with his modelling job and straight, pearly-white teeth that gave him the most blinding smile. No matter how much he had stuttered, he had always said Jihoon’s name like it was the first Korean word he’d learned, and he said it like he was born to say it, like Jihoon was the only thing he was ever sure of. Jihoon realises that whichever Junhui it was, he fell in love the same way. 

 

Jihoon tugs harshly on Junhui’s scarf, drawing a surprised yelp from him, and their lips meet in a crash, and it should hurt from the sheer force of contact, but the fire searing in his heart washes over any other feeling. He can feel warm tears find their way down his cheeks, but the only thing that’s clouding his mind is Junhui’s warm hands on his waist, Junhui’s lingering scent of lavender, Junhui’s lips on his, and Junhui, Junhui, _Junhui._

 

On November the twenty-third, Jihoon goes back to normal. Junhui doesn’t seem very content with this sudden change, and he voices out his concern as he tugs on Jihoon’s cheeks (much to his annoyance) to try to coax a smile out of him.

 

“You were so happy yesterday! What’s with the sudden change? Do you not want to be my boyfriend?”

 

Jihoon frowns and hits his arm, “Don’t be stupid. It’s past midnight, so leave me be.”

 

Junhui sighs dramatically, “Is this how it feels like to be Cinderella? After midnight, all the magic wears off, I’m just a commoner now, and even after I said all _that_ last night, oh, what do I do…”

 

Jihoon shakes his head with a fond smile, and reaches over to lace his fingers with Junhui’s. Maybe he can’t get used to letting himself feel loved and appreciated, but this time, he’d start off with this person. _His_ person, his boyfriend, Wen Junhui, because he’s the sun who warms winter up to welcome spring.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello if you've made it to this note,,
> 
> Thank you for reading! I honestly didn't expect to write Jihoon as such a self-deprecating character :< it just kinda came along the way? Junhoon has always been an Extreme Soft Spot for me because they're both so different yet they're both so fond of each other, and they always poke fun at each other and what-not uwu if you have any comments! or advice! just leave it in the comments I would greatly appreciate anything and if you want to scream about junhoon at me I am mingshus on twitter


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